


Never Forget You │ Monty & Winston

by wontystories



Category: 13 Reasons Why (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Middle School, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Canonical Child Abuse, Child Abuse, Crying, Domestic Violence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Manipulation, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Homophobia, Hugging, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Internalized Homophobia, Kissing, M/M, Photography, References to Depression, School, boys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-24
Updated: 2021-01-11
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:01:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26637763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wontystories/pseuds/wontystories
Summary: wonty middle school au
Comments: 1
Kudos: 17





	1. Art

It was another September afternoon at Evergreen County Middle School. The day had passed by rather quickly and it was almost time for dismissal.

As the bell for seventh period was about to ring, Montgomery de la Cruz was looking forward to his art class.

Montgomery wasn't a popular kid, but he wasn't a complete outcast either. He never really had close friends. He was independent and that's how he liked it. Friends meant communication and communication, by definition, meant having to talk to people. It wasn't that he was shy, but he wasn't fond of forced social interaction, or interaction in general. Monty was perfectly content to be on his own.

It was eighth grade, the last year of middle school for him. Nothing exciting had ever happened in Monty's life, but he was passionate about his art at least. It provided an escape from the woes of his day-to-day life. However pathetic it might seem, art was his rock in the middle of the raging sea he called home. Despite this, he never really told anyone.

Realistically, who did he have? His father was a drunk who'd rather spend his time fishing for change in the alleys and getting wasted at bars than with his own children. His mother was busy working two jobs to keep food on the table. And Estela, well, she was a bit too young to appreciate the world of art yet.

He had no friends, no pets, and no one to talk to about the joy art brought him. Not that he'd ever talk about his emotions though. His father taught him that happiness was something only found in movies and comic books from a young age.

Once the bell rang, Monty arrived to his two dimensional art class. He unpacked his sketchbook, colored pencils, and a few pens his mother bought him.

As Monty took his seat and prepared for class, an unfamiliar face walked into the room. It was a boy with wavy black hair and hazel eyes. His hair was longer for a boy's chin length and neatly styled. His clothing, a navy blue button down with grey colored jeans, looked expensive and he wore a thin watch on his left wrist.

Monty's eyes followed him as he crossed the room. There just so happened to be an empty seat next to him, and sure enough, the boy took it.

The boy gave him a slight smile and unpacked his backpack. Monty kept staring at him. There was something about him that caught his eye, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it yet. The boy looked back up at Monty and their eyes locked for a second before the teacher began to talk.

"Alright class, today we are going to be doing a group project. Everyone please partner up with someone, preferably someone who is near you."

Monty sighed. He wasn't overly fond of working with other people, he was used to always being alone and preferred it that way. Thus, he just kept sketching in his notebook, not bothering to look around and see who was available. If he was lucky, perhaps the teacher would just let him be to avoid the struggle of having to regroup everyone else. He rested his cheek on his hand, continuing to scratch the pencil across the paper.

Moments later, he felt a tap on his shoulder. Monty turned around with an expression that was something akin both surprise and irritation. Much to his dismay, it was the new kid. It appeared that he was waiting for Monty to ask him to partner up first, but Monty remained still so he decided to do it himself.

"Hey, I like your landscape. What's it supposed to be?" the boy asked.

Monty tried making himself look irritated, hoping to shut the boy up, but there was something about him that almost forced him to reconsider that idea.

Instead, he decided to ignore the boy and continue on with his drawing. Wasn't there a saying about that? Ignorance is bliss?

"The Ninth Wave?" he continued.

Monty paused, sitting the pencil down against the table a little harder than strictly necessary. The boy seemed entranced, grinning in a passionate way as he glanced between Monty and the page.

"Yeah, how did you know?" Monty replied, only feeling marginally regretful about ignoring him earlier.

"I know Ivan Aivazovsky when I see it. It looks amazing so far. You really nailed the reflection of the sunlight on the waves. I tried to draw it once a few months ago, but I hadn't quite learned the proper blending techniques for a piece like that yet." the boy beamed.

Monty's irritated look and tone had faded as he looked away. Nobody had ever complimented him on his artwork before aside from the teacher, she was probably obligated to do so anyways. Perhaps he was wrong about this new boy.

He was about to reply when the teacher spoke, "Alright everyone, I assume you have already chosen a partner to work with."

"Partners?" The boy whispered, the same smile still plastered on his face.

"Okay," Monty agreed, only hesitating for a moment.

The assignment was to draw anything on one half of the provided paper. Each partner would do one side of the drawing to express their interest or personality. Since it was the first few weeks of school, it appeared to be one of the run-of-mill assignments that tried to coax people to open up and get to know one another.

As the teacher droned on, Monty fiddled with the pencil in his hands. He tapped his foot lightly on the floor, anxious to say something to the boy but still unsure of how to phrase it. While he would deny the emotion was guilt until his dying breath, he recognized that he probably should've given him a chance from the start. It was art class, it wasn't like he had much to hide anyway. He bit his lip, formulating a response in his head and rehearsing the conversation.

Monty didn't like the beginning of the school year because it's the time where you had to get to know everyone but more specifically, he hated how he needed to describe himself. There was really nothing he wanted to tell anyone, and even if he did, it would seem selfish.

The year seemed different, it was the last year of middle school before he would finally go to high school. Although he was perfectly fine alone, maybe it was time for a new friend or any friends at all.

When the bell finally rang and people began moving towards the exit, Monty saw his opportunity.

"Look man, I'm sorry about earlier. You seem like a good guy." he offered.

"No, it's fine. I get it." the boy laughed, waving his hand.

Monty smiled lazily, watching as the dark haired boy began packing his things.

"I'm Montgomery." he blurted before he could stop himself.

"Winston." came the reply.

He felt his cheeks redden as he watched the other boy walk away. His eyes followed him, observing the way his curls bounced slightly when he took a step. Maybe this project wasn't going to be as horrible as he'd anticipated.


	2. Pictures

Winston Williams always knew he was different. He never really felt any attraction towards girls. The concept of the romance movies showcasing a over-the-top make out between a man and a woman was lost on him. Even when he started middle school and the innocent romances began, the kinds the parents loved to fawn over, he didn't understand why. Girls were nice, but boys were cute. He learned the word gay when he was about nine years old, and it stuck with him ever since. It was just a part of him. Some people are gay and some people aren't and that was that. He never saw it as an issue and luckily, neither did his parents.

To be honest, it's not like they'd pay it any attention anyway. He'd learned a long time ago that when parents called something interesting, it means they couldn't care less. Most things in Winston's life were labeled interesting.

The following day, Winston spotted Monty in the cafeteria. As he entered the room, he grimaced at the scent of microwaved mystery meats and flavorless substances that were called food. Monty appeared to be lost in whatever drawing he was working on. It was almost like nobody else was in the room, just him and his sketchbook.

He was sitting alone, so Winston saw no issues in taking the empty seat.

"Hey, still working on your drawing?" he inquired.

Monty jumped, pulling the ear buds out quickly.

"Yeah, I'm almost finished. Just got to add the finishing touches and I'm done." he explained.

"Looks great. Can I join you?" Winston proposed.

Monty quirked an eyebrow, biting his lip before nodding.

"Sure." he responded.

Both of them had already gotten their lunch. While Winston ate his sandwich, Monty's food went almost untouched. Every now and again he would pick up a cheeto from the bag, but his focus was almost solely on the drawing. Winston felt his thoughts drifting as he watched the meticulous strokes of the pencil across the page.

"What's your next class?" he asked.

"Oh, I have geometry next." Monty answered, making eye contact as he finally glanced up from his work.

Geometry was one of the advanced math classes offered in the middle school. The majority of eight graders took algebra and started geometry in high school, but Monty had been accepted into the advanced program. It was easy to tell that he was intelligent. He spoke articulately when spoken to and rarely missed an assignment due date. He would get good grades but never told anyone. His father was never one for academic success. So long as he was being masculine and staying out of the way, his father couldn't care less how he did in school.

His mother spent the majority of the day at work and when she finally returned home, exhausted and ready to go to sleep, his grades weren't exactly high on her list of priorities.

"I have a yearbook next, it's one of my electives." Winston remarked, breaking the steady stream of silence between the two.

Monty looked up at him. "You're a photographer?"

Winston nodded and pulled out his Nikon camera from his backpack. Monty was instantly fascinated with it. His eyes seemed to analyze it as he stared at it.

"Aren't you hungry?" Winston wondered aloud.

"Not really." Monty shrugged.

This time it was Winston's turn to raise an eyebrow. He smiled mischievously, jumping up from the bench.

"Follow me." Winston instructed.

Monty seemed confused at first, but quickly packed his things and followed him. Together, they snuck out of the cafeteria and out to building one, home to the library, administration office, and the yearbook room. Winston untucked the badge from his shirt, scanning it to unlock the door. As the door swung open, Monty was immediately in awe.

The yearbook room was rather small, but it was organized. Monty crept into the room, trying his best to stay silent as to not alert the administrators to their presence. He circled around the room, picking up different objects and studying them in his hands while Winston explained the different functions and uses.

"And that's pretty much it." he concluded as Monty sat the telephoto lense back down.

"I've always wanted to take a picture with a camera, you know, to draw." Monty divulged quitely. 

Winston frowned slightly. The way he said it made it seem like it was one of his deepest, darkest secrets. The kind of things people would only admit to during a sleepover at three in the morning. He followed Monty as the other boy moved towards the table filled with cameras.

"It's not hard once you learn," Winston suggested.

Monty turned around, eyes wide as he spoke.

"Can you teach me?" he pleaded.

"Okay, sure." Winston chuckled.

He moved toward the table where Monty was standing. Clearing his throat, he placed his camera in Monty's hands. Standing behind the other boy and reaching from under his arms, he held his hands over Monty's.

"So you want to make sure you're holding it right, or else the picture will be blurry." he began.

Monty nodded, sticking his tongue out in concentration. Winston would have laughed if not for fear of ruining the moment.

"Like this?" he asked.

Winston nodded, clicking the settings button and proceeding to explain all the details and features of the camera. Monty would nod along, doing as Winston instructed.

Once they'd finished, Monty turned around. They were suddenly face to face and extremely close together. Winston stepped back, feeling himself blush as Monty did the same.

"So...can I maybe practice on you?" Monty hesitated.

Winston snorted, a smile widening as Monty held up the camera.

"You know what, go for it. I think you did pretty well in the crash course." he chortled.

Monty looked down, smiling as he laughed. It was a high yet airy tone, similar to a soft giggle. Their eyes locked, staring into each other's eyes for a second before Monty looked away again. He pushed his bangs out of his eyes, holding the camera up and pointing it at Winston. The other boy smiled, unsure of what pose he should do. He settled for holding onto his backpack strap, looking slightly past the camera to give the picture more of an authentic and natural look. The camera clicked, flash going off before he let his hands rest at his sides.

"Let's see it." he insisted, holding his hands out.

Monty passed him the camera, blush darkening under his freckles as Winston opened the image preview.

"It's probably not that great-" he began before Winston cut him off.

"Wow, this turned out pretty well. Especially for your first try." Winston commented.

Monty seemed surprised, raising his eyebrows as his side-swept bangs fell back into his left eye. He quickly pushed them out of the way, smiling nervously.

"You really think so?" he murmured.

"Definitely." Winston assured him.

He tilted his head, observing the other boy with a smile. Monty acted like he'd never been completed before, but surely that must be incorrect. He was intelligent and had an amazing eye for art, not to mention a beautiful smile. Monty was sweet and quiet. His hair looked soft and Winston had to restrain himself from just sweeping his bangs back himself. There was something about him that made Winston want to smile too.


	3. Emotions

Ever since Monty took that photograph of Winston, he couldn't stop thinking about it. As he laid in bed, looking up at the glow in the dark star sticker on his ceiling, he let his mind drift. Winston was one of the only people who had ever been nice to him. Others typically ignored him or teased him for his hair and clothes. Winston was different, he was special. He didn't care that Monty's bangs fell in his eyes more often than not and didn't point out the pitch of his voice. He also took the time out of his day to teach him how to use a camera. Genuinely nice people didn't come around that often. He wanted to do something, make something that would show Winston how grateful he was. So, why not use what made them friends in the first place? Art.

Monty first got the idea during the morning's free period. As he walked down the hallway, he paused outside the photography room. Trying his best to not seem suspicious, he looked around the hallway. Not many people had their first class in Building One so the timing was perfect. After making sure the coast was clear, he slipped inside the room. Closing the door behind him, he crept over to the table with all the cameras. Monty studied them for a few seconds, trying to recall the details of the camera he'd used yesterday. He grabbed it, turning it in his hands to look for the SD card slot. If it worked the way he thought it did, he should be able put the SD card into a computer and print the picture on a piece of paper. From there, he would copy in onto tracing paper and then onto a sheet so he could draw it. 

It was block periods today, which meant odd numbered class periods such as one, three, five and seven. The classes were longer but there was less moving around between the classes. 

Monty didn't spot Winston at lunch, but that gave him an opportunity. He wanted to get started on drawing the picture without him knowing for fear of ruining the surprise.

The drawing had turned out really good so far and all Monty could think about was how desperately he wanted Winston to like it. It needed to be perfect. 

He was fully absorbed in his work until he felt someone approaching him from a distance. On instinct, he quickly shielded the drawing. Unsurprisingly, it was Winston who. In doing so, he'd unknowingly allowed his sleeve to slide up his wrist. 

Winston strolled up to the bench with his camera around his neck. In an effort to seem less suspicious, Monty tried to stealthily flip the page. 

"Hey Montgomery," Winston cheered, "What are you working on today?".

Monty couldn't help but grin at Winston's interest. Nobody had ever been interested in his life before, let alone taken the time to ask what he was working on.

"Oh, uh... nothing. Sketching ideas for new projects, I guess. How about you?" he spluttered.

"I was taking photos for Yearbook, want to join?" Winston offered, taking a seat beside him.

Monty laughed, "Sure."

Winston gave him the same warm smile that made Monty's heart do flips. As they packed up their things, he heard Winston gasp.

"What did you do to your wrist?" he inquired, eyes wide with concern.

Monty felt his breath catch his lungs, quickly pulling his sleeve down.

"Nothing, it was nothing. Just a skateboarding accident. I'm still trying to learn how to do an ollie." Monty stuttered, swallowing as Winston raised a brow.

"Ok," he replied.

Thankfully, he didn't ask anymore questions or raise any objections. Once they gathered their things, they left the cafeteria. 

This was the second time Monty ditched lunch. He would admit he did love the thrill of sneaking out. A regular lunch day would be him and his sketchbook, but now he actually had someone by his side, and he was very appreciative for Winston.

They walked into building two, where all the arts classes were. Winston hoped to get pictures of the orchestra and band to put under the "art and music electives" section of the yearbook. 

As Winston began snapping photos of the orchestra, Monty replayed the incident over and over in his head. Should he tell Winston? How would he react? Would he say something? He felt his throat grow tight, stomach sinking as he thought of all the possible ways Winston would react to the story. He wanted to tell him, but that didn't mean he should. Nevertheless, he could feel the urge eating at him, bubbling it's way to the top. Much like the bruise, the memory of its origin was still fresh on his mind. 

They were almost at the band room door before Monty spoke, "Hey, can we talk?"

Without question, Winston agreed. 

"Want to go in there?" Winston pointed towards the bathroom and to which Monty nodded.

Winston followed him, feeling the anxiety build slightly as they walked down the hall. Monty pulled the edges of his sleeves down over his palms, rubbing them together as they continued. 

By the time they got into the bathroom, Monty's chest felt tight. It felt like his heart was going to explode. He felt the tears spring to his eyes, jaw working as he tried to formulate the words but they died on his tongue. 

Winston waited patiently for Monty to speak. It was obvious that this wasn't easy for him. Monty's lip trembled as the tears overflowed. They streamed down his cheeks in hot rivulets, splashing onto the floor. He looked up, sniffling as he tried to hold back the tears. Winston's brows furrow as he watched the scene unfold before him. Cautiously, he moved closer towards Monty. 

"Hey, hey. You can tell me anything, I'm here for you." he assured him, hand reaching out.

Monty shattered, face scrunching up as a sob broke through his lips. Instinctually, Winston pulled him closer. He carded his fingers through the soft hair at the nape of Monty's neck, guiding the other boy's head against his shoulder. Monty's shaking arms wrapped around him tightly, holding onto him like he was the last raft during the sinking of the Titanic. Winston hushed him, hugging him tighter every time he felt him shudder.

"Don't cry, I've got you." he whispered. 

It was something he'd seen in the movies many times and it always seemed to work there. Thus, he replicated it. 

Monty's sobs started to quiet, but his grip never loosened. When Winston looked down, Monty's were closed and his ear was resting against his collar bone. He still looked like he was in pain, but he had managed to get his breathing under control. From what Winston had observed, it came dangerously close to a panic attack. 

He was still holding Monty close, one hand cradling the back of his head while the other rubbed soothing circles into his back. The boy was still sniffling, nose buried against Winston's throat. Moments later, the PA went off, causing Monty to jump slightly. Winston patted his back, trying to keep him from working himself into another near-panic attack. 

"Attention all eighth graders, please report to the auditorium." it boomed.

Winston pulled away slightly, letting his hands grip Monty's forearms gently to steady him.

"Assembly?" he questioned in a soft voice.

"Yeah, but can we sit in the back?" Monty murmured.

"That's fine. Whatever you feel more comfortable with." Winston agreed.

Monty nodded, pulling the sleeves of his flannel down over his hands and wiping furiously at the dried tear tracks on his cheeks.

"Come here," Winston instructed.

Monty followed him towards the sink. He pointedly ignored looking in the mirror but he hadn't missed the puffiness around his eyes or how flushed his cheeks looked. Even with a quick glance, it was easy to tell that he'd been crying. Thus, he thought it was best to sit in the back where there were less lights and people. Winston had no objections. He could understand Monty wanting to avoid the stares and potentially getting pulled aside by one of the teachers, if they decided to care. 

In an effort to make it less obvious, Winston pulled a paper towel from the dispenser. With a sad smile, he gently wiped the remainder of the stale tears from Monty's pinkened cheeks. 

"There, is that a little better?" he offered.

Monty just nodded, not trusting his voice. 

By the time they arrived in the auditorium, it was already half way full. Monty followed Winston to the back corner and they took their seats. He tried his best to just look straight ahead. If he pretended like nothing happened, he wouldn't draw attention to himself. As such, he let his bangs fall into his eyes. For all the problems they caused, he was thankful he had them for moments like this.

The principal and the other assistant principals were on the stage with microphones in their hand.

"Good afternoon Evergreen County eighth graders!" the principal announced.

People groaned as his voice boomed. He motioned for the volume to be turned down, then proceeded with the program. The principle went on about how this is their last year of middle school so that means they are getting old enough to and should know how to be organized and set a good example for the younger grades.

Winston snickered quietly. It seemed like adults were always concerned about the older kids "setting a good example". 

"While it isn't an easy topic to discuss, it is an important one. We've called this assembly in order to teach you about the warning signs of domestic violence." the principal explained.

It was impossible to miss the full body shudder coming from the boy sitting beside him once the words had left the principal's mouth. Winston frowned, eyes darting over towards him. 

The boy's face was still red and looked like he was holding back tears. His lip was quivering and his hands trembled from where they rested on his thighs.

"Hey, are you okay?" he whispered. 

As much as Winston was grateful and wanted Monty to be comfortable expressing his emotions in front of him, he still wanted to see Monty happy. He had a beautiful smile and whenever he was around he craved the vivacious smile that could light up the room.

Monty just shook his head, tapping his foot against the floor. It was obvious he didn't want to talk about it, but Winston scooted just a tad closer to offer his support. 

After the introductory speech had been given, the informational videos began playing. Each showcased a survivor from a different form of abuse, telling their story while a mellow song played in the background. 

As the videos played, Winston studied Monty. He had moved onto biting his lip in what seemed like an effort to stay quiet. His breaths stuttered as if he was trying to fight the emotions down. It was heartbreaking to watch. Winston hesitated for a moment, knowing Monty wouldn't want to draw attention to them but refusing to let the boy suffer in silence. As subtle as he could, he reached over and held Monty's hand in his own. It shook in his grasp promoting Winston to give it a comforting squeeze. Monty shot him a perplexed but grateful look before focusing his attention on the floor. 

While the videos flashed in the background, all Monty could think about was the sound of glass shattering and people arguing. He cringed as the memories replayed like a horror movie in his head.

"And remember: if you see something, say something. You have the power to protect those around you, but you have to speak up." the video stated.

Who would even want to help me? Nobody cares about me, why would they show us these if they know it won't make a difference? Adults walked by them arguing on the streets all the time. No one cared. Why would these videos change anything? If the adults knew what was going on and did nothing more than spare him a sympathetic glance, why would kids make any difference? 

He was startled out of his thoughts when Winston squeezed his hand again. It was obviously a gesture of comfort, something Monty knew he needed right now.

He felt safe in that moment sitting there with Winston. He wasn't like the majority of the other boys in the school. He wasn't the type to yell and scream, to throw things like his father did. No, Winston was safe and calm. He understood and wouldn't turn him away when he cried or reached out for help. Winston would care, right? 

Monty looked up at him, noticing that Winston was fully engrossed in the video. He noticed Monty looking at him and gave him a smile. 

Monty felt his cheeks grow warm just looking at him. He wanted to be closer to Winston, to hug him again and, maybe this time, hold onto him forever. He knew he couldn't, at least not surrounded by an auditorium full of people, but he couldn't help but yearn for Winston's warm embrace.

Hours later, Monty rolled over and looked at the clock. The red digits read 1:04 AM and he still couldn't sleep. His mind was focused on Winston, remembering how nice it was to be held by him and how safe he felt in that moment. 

So many thoughts swirled in his head, "Was this something he felt in the moment or who he was?"

Monty reminisced on that thought for a while. Unlike what he gathered from the other boys his age, he never had crushes on girls. He didn't see what all the hype was about. Sure, they were nice and all, but he didn't want to kiss them or hold hands with them. Maybe he just hadn't found the right girl yet, but this didn't seem like the case. It was frustratingly complex. Things would be so much easier if he just felt like all the other boys did. They seemed to have it all figured out. 

Could it be possible that he liked boys? Maybe. He knew he liked Winston, but that was different, right? He wouldn't necessarily mind kissing him and he liked holding hands with him. But that was for boys and girls, not two boys...right? Monty didn't know how to react or what he was supposed to do. He'd never really thought about it before. In the morning, perhaps all these thoughts would drift away.


	4. Park

It had been one of the best weeks of Monty's life. He had finally found someone who showed interest in him, someone who seemed like they cared. Winston was someone worth holding onto. 

It was Friday, which meant he had all periods today according to the block schedule. As such, he would be seeing Winston.

As the afternoon approached, Monty started to frett. The same perplexing and unanswered questions from the previous night had resurfaced, leaving him on edge. He couldn't help but remember the incident in the bathroom. However embarrassing it was at the time, Winston was nonjudgmental and didn't seem to mind. He could count on one hand the amount of times he'd express his emotions in front of others before, let alone how many times people took action or voiced their concerns.

While they waited for class to begin, Monty fidgeted with his pencil. All his focus was on the door waiting for a certain brunette to walk in with a camera around his neck and a smile that made his heart soar. Monty began losing hope as the seconds ticked by, the teacher stood up from her desk in anticipation. Right before the bell rang, Winston came staggering in. His face was red and he was panting slightly. It seemed as if he had run to class. Monty was relieved although curious as to what kept the normally punctual student behind. 

"Mr. Williams, it's preferable that you don't come to my classes a second before the bell rings." the droning voice of the teacher called out as everyone turned towards Winston.

He mumbled what Monty inferred was an apology before he started making his way over to their table. He smiled, feeling his mood lift at just the sight of the other boy. 

"I'd prefer it if she didn't talk about her divorce while I'm trying to get my work done but you can't have everything I guess." Winston whispered snarkily, just loud enough for only Monty to hear.

Monty grinned and Winston did the same, obviously proud of his comment. They both laughed quietly at the back of the classroom but apparently not quiet enough for it to go unnoticed.

"Is there anything funny you boys will like to share with the class?" the teacher chided. 

"No miss, sorry." they responded.

Winston had to bite his tongue to refrain from laughing. Once more, the teacher took notice of this.

"Well are you sure? If it's truly that funny and then the class should know, don't you think?" she hissed.

Monty felt his palms sweat, sending Winston a nervous glance. He wasn't overly fond of bringing attention to himself, especially negative attention from the art teacher. Winston, however, didn't seem to back down.

He winked at Monty before replying, "No miss, but I'll make sure to put my hand up if we feel like sharing it later on." 

Smartass. Winston's voice was so sickly sweet one could practically taste the sarcasm that dripped from his lips like honey. The teacher's face hardened as she glared at him before turning back to the white board. Monty was astonished by the boldness of his actions. At first glance, Winston appeared to just be one of the quiet kids but upon further investigation, it was clear that he had a similar grudge against authority.

"Two years tops before she's a full time alcoholic." Monty snarked to Winston as she turned around. 

"Hey, be nice." the boy teased.

Winston hit him on the arm lightly but there was no sign of malice in his actions. Instead, there was a smile dancing on his lips.

"And, just for the record, I'm gonna say one and a half." he cheekily added before grabbing his bag to get his supplies.

The bag was filled with expensive coloured pencils from the brand Faber Castell. It reminded Monty of the time his mom took him into town. As they passed by the art store, he had seen the pencils in the window display. 

As the teacher was taking attendance, Monty decided to ask Winston the question that had been lingering in the back of his head.

"Why were you almost late today?" Monty whispered.

"I was developing some pictures in the dark room and lost track of time. When I realised I might be late, I almost skipped but didn't want to miss out on seeing you so I ran." Winston explained, absentmindedly while opening his sketch book to a blank page.

Even though he couldn't name the feeling, Monty's heart melted a little every time he spoke. He could listen to Winston talk forever, especially if it was about something he was passionate about.

Class was short, only about forty-five minutes. Monty and Winston worked on the project quietly until the bell rang. After finally deciding on which image they had wanted to use, they had just begun the outline process when the bell rang. They both wanted to keep working to keep the momentum moving. Especially Monty who, as much as he loved art, enjoyed having Winston by his side even more. Plus, they only had a few more days to finish it. .

When they started to pack up, Monty took a step towards him.

"Hey, do you want to finish this after school?" he proposed.

Winston smiled at him. He was glad Monty wanted to spend time with him, especially outside of school hours.. 

"Okay, where?" he replied.

Monty thought quickly, "Eisenhower park?"

"I'll see you there." Winston agreed, disappearing with a wink. 

An hour after dismissal, they were both preparing for the meet up. Filled with nervous excitement, Monty realized this would be the first time they actually hung out outside of school, just like best friends did.

Monty left the house, closing the door as softly as he could behind him. He slung his backpack over his shoulder and set the skateboard down on the ground. The skateboard wasn't anything special or fancy. The greying deck was quite old and shabby, but it held a special place In his heart. He had gotten it as a birthday present a while ago from his mother, back when she had actually given a shit about him. He taught himself how to skate in an old abandoned skate park that no one knew about. He hopped on his board and skated down the empty road, beginning his short journey to Eisenhower Park. 

As he crossed the street, Monty kept thinking about how grateful he was for Winston. He'd never had friends; he was always an outcast, invisible wherever he went. He thought of Winston's eyes and how they lit up when he was talking about something he loved. He thought about the scar in his eyebrow that somehow made him look so imperfectly perfect. He thought about his lips, they seemed so soft. At times, Monty wanted to brush his thumb across them to test his theory. 

Arriving at the park, Monty sat on the bench. It was five in the afternoon and he could tell the sun was going to start to set soon. The sky had started to blend in shades of blue and pink that always reminded him of cotton candy from the carnivals. 

They both lived on the opposite side of town. Winston lived in the upper part of town where the houses were mansions and everyone owned at least three cars. Monty lived downtown where the houses were significantly smaller and you were lucky if you had a garage. . His family wasn't poor, but they had just enough money to make ends meet. They could afford to put food on the table, but they weren't going to buy things they didn't need.

Winston's family on the other hand, was one of the richest families in Evergreen. His parents were both successful alumni of Princeton. The Williams' had a reputation, so sure enough Winston's parents wanted him to be just like them. He was an only child and had whatever he wanted, but he wasn't selfish about it. It was just the life he was used to.

Eisenhower park was right in the middle of both sides of town. The park was crowded in the mornings, seeing as everyone brought their kids there to play, however at this time of day it was deserted. Monty waited patiently for Winston to arrive, unzipping his backpack and pulling out his sketchbook. Not even a second later, he heard the sound of wheels racing down the road. He turned his head just in time to see Winston soaring on his own skateboard. He had a camera around his neck, which seemed to be an accessory at this point, and a satchel thrown over his shoulder. The wind was blowing his hair in disarray. A joyful grin danced on his lips and his eyes were closed like he was in his own world. Monty didn't know what he expected, but he certainly didn't expect Winston to know how to ride a skateboard. When winston was a second away from the gate he jumped off and caught the board in his hands. It seemed like skateboarding was a hobby of Winstons as he handled it with such ease. Winston entered the park and looked around, spotting Monty on the bench. After giving him a small wave and a nod, he jogged over to him. Minty couldn't help but smile from just seeing the boy look happy and peaceful.

"Hey, Monty!" Winston greeted as he sat down on the bench.

He set his satchel down beside him and placed his board up against the leg of the bench.

"Monty?" the brunette wondered aloud.

The corners of his mouth quirked up into a teasing smile. Monty. No one had called him that before. It sounded nice coming from Winston. It sounded right. A nickname.

"Well, your name is sorta long so I figured a nickname wouldn't hurt. Monty just seemed to fit you." Winston replied, mirroring the same teasing smile.

"Never had a nickname before. It sounds nice though, I like it. Monty." he explained, repeating the word and liking the way it sounded.

"Anyways, let's get started on the work." Winston directed, taking out his supplies. 

After an hour of drawing, sketching, and colouring, they had nearly finished. They just had to add the finishing touches and it would be complete. On one side there was a black Nikon camera and other on the other there was a myriad of art supplies: oil paints,watercolors, pencils, pastels, and more. Monty and Winston finished their last stroke at the same time and took a second to admire their work, checking to see if they needed anything else. 

"We're finally finished, phew." Winston commented as he placed his pencil back in with the set and leaned against the back of the bench

"Yeah, my wrists are starting to hurt." Monty complained with a slight chuckle, joining Winston in leaning against the bench. He clutched his wrist and rubbed at it, hitting Winston's shoulder lightly when he snickered. They stayed for a few seconds, saying nothing before Monty got up and swung his backpack over one shoulder and reached down to grab his skateboard. He was halted by a hand on his wrist.

"Don't leave yet! We're at the park, let's have some fun. Plus I don't want to go home yet." Winston begged him with a cheerful tone but pleading eyes. 

"Yeah, sure, I can stay." Monty agreed, taking off his backpack and tossing it back onto the bench. 

Monty was glad Winston asked him to stay. He didn't particularly want to go home either, especially not with his dad home. 

As if he would give up the chance to hang out with Winston anyway. Without warning, Winston was pulling them towards the swings running a little and never once letting go of his hand until they got on a swing each. Winston hopped on straight away, trying to go as high as possible. He pushed his legs forward and leaned all the back everytime the swing rose. He was laughing loudly like nobody was watching and the world was his. Monty didn't join in. Instead he was concentrating on trying to keep up with the other boy. He watched as Winston closed his eyes every time the swing would fly back and how all his curls would blow forward, covering his face. He's never seen anyone look so content with life. Monty never wanted this moment to end. Winston stopped when he noticed that Monty wasn't swinging. 

"You're not gonna join me?" Winston asked, still giddy from the rush of adrenaline.

"Nah, I'm good," Monty replied, not really paying attention as he was lost in Winston's hazel eyes. Sometimes, the light would hit his eyes at such an angle that the golden brown flakes would be highlighted. All the flakes were even more defined underneath the golden pink sky. Monty wondered what they would look under the moonlight. 

"Oh come on! I'll look ridiculous if I'm the only one swinging." Winston lamented half-heartedly but they both knew he couldn't care less if people saw him.

"No you don't, you look beautiful." the words left Monty's mouth before he could even register what he just said. 

Blood rushed to Winston's cheeks as he bowed his head slightly, hoping Monty didn't take notice. Then, Winston got an idea. 

"Bet you can't go higher than me." he challenged playfully before kicking off the ground and into the air again, hoping this would get Monty to participate. 

"Oh, you are on." Monty responded with a cheeky, competitive tone before following suit and launching himself off the ground and into the air like a rocket. 

He felt the rush of the wind around him as he glided through the air. He let go of all his worries just long enough to be a normal kid for a second. He let out a loud chuckle like Winston had done before and he wasn't able to stop. He soon heard Winston laugh beside him. If anyone walked by, they might've thought they were crazy but they were too absorbed in their own little bubble to care. 

Now it was Winston's turn to observe. He had never seen Monty look free or effervescent before. It was like he could finally take the weight off of his shoulders that alway seemed to be weighing down on him. Monty kept his eyes open, taking in the world around instead of closing his eyes like Winston. His bangs flew away every time he went forward, revealing his beautiful face. Monty's green-hazel eyes had a twinkle in them any time he was doing something he enjoyed. Monty was looking up at the sky as if it was the most beautiful thing in the world. In truth, he thought the most gorgeous thing in the world was sitting right next to him, laughing contagiously.

"Oh, hey, I brought a blanket, I figured we would be here for a while so I thought we could get comfortable." Winston blurted.

"Okay, sure." Monty replied as he got up from the swing to help Winston spread the blanket out. 

They placed the blanket on the grass not too far away from the bench. Both of them laid down on their side, facing each other. Winston was leaning against his elbow, staring at Montgomery. There was something about him, something that made him different from the rest.

Monty worked his jaw, eyes darting to the side as he recalled what had been bothering him. There was something he wanted to do since that Wednesday in the bathroom: apologize.

"Hey, I'm sorry about what happened in the bathroom," he paused, watching Winston's eyebrows raise, "You didn't have to do that for me. I'm not used to having anyone by my side."

Winston didn't need an apology, he would always be there for him no matter what. That had been decided from the first day he had met the other boy.

"That's fine, you don't need to apologize." Winston smiled. 

"I guess I got scared." Monty scoffed.

"About what? You know you can tell me anything, Monty." Winston reassured him, now sitting, ready to listen and comfort him.

"I know. It's just, I mean, there are a lot of things I don't tell anyone." he began.

Monty rolled up his flannel sleeve hesitatingly, watching anxiously for Winston's reaction.

"You see these scars? Most people didn't take too kindly to them. Also, people tend to make fun of my hair. I guess because it's messy, but it doesn't make it any better." he confessed.

Winston got closer to him and examined the scars on his wrist. He took Monty's arm in his own with a gentle grasp, studying it.

"Scars have mysterious stories. We all have them whether they are internal or external. They make people human, show that we're not invincible." he proclaimed, locking eyes with Monty.

"Don't ever feel insecure about them. They're a part of you, part of what makes you beautiful." Winston said as he traced the scars delicately with the tip of his finger.

Monty felt his mouth drop a little. This was the first time anyone had ever said something so kind to him. He was used to believing he wasn't good enough, but Winston thought otherwise.

A few seconds passed and Monty felt soft fingers card through his bangs, effectively moving them out of his eye.

"I love your hair, I think it's perfect." Winston professed. 

Monty watched Winston's finger as it traveled down his face. All they could do was stare at each other, feeling the tension increase. It was like they were the only two people in the world.

"You know I have a scar, right here." Winston pointed out.

He gestured to his eyebrow. There was a small diagonal slit on his right eyebrow and oddly enough it suited his face. Monty was grateful he wasn't the only one with flaws.

Montgomery and Winston were both lost in each other's eyes. It was a feeling one couldn't describe. Winston leaned forward, his lips nearing Monty's cheek when they flinched apart. A car had gone speeding down the road, honking the horn at someone else and startling the boys.

"Oh, um, sorry about that." Winston blurted out quickly, standing up.

They were both so lost in the moment that they didn't realize what was about to happen.

"No, it's fine." Monty rushed following Winston's actions and getting to his feet.

He was still trying to cope with the fact that he was about to kiss him. Trying not to make the situation more awkward, Monty decided to break the silence.

"It's getting late, can I walk you home?" he offered.

"Really? Are you sure? You'll get home later than usual." Winston acknowledged.

"I'll be fine, I'm sure mom is sleeping and my dad—probably passed out on the floor." Monty reassured him.

The boy gave Monty a worried look, "Oh okay."

They packed up all their things and began walking uptown, skateboards in hand. They messed around on their skateboards, doing random tricks and chasing each other around still wanting to keep that feeling of being free without any worries. Somewhere along the way, they had exchanged numbers.

Time flew by, and before they knew it, they were up where the rich people lived. Monty was fascinated as he saw the giant mansions with pools. He had never really seen this kind of luxury before. He'd never been on this side of town. Winston's house had to be one of the largest in that neighborhood.

"Thanks for walking me home, Montgomery. I'll be there whenever you need to to talk." Winston stated, readjusting his grip on the skateboard.

"Thanks for being there. It was nice to see you again." Monty replied.

Winston grinned, stepping forward into Monty's space. The brunette's eyes grew wide, heart thundering in his chest as Winston closed his eyes. Soft lips pressed against his cheek and he could feel the warmth rush to his face. Winston pulled back, tucking an unruly curl behind his ear.

"We should do this more often." he flirted.

Monty was awestruck, mind still caught up in the fact that Winston kissed him. He recovered quickly, feeling his cheeks flame as he nodded his head. 

"Yeah, yeah... definitely- I’d like to hang out with you again." he stuttered, blinking as his bangs fell into his eyes.

At least that way Winston wouldn't see how red his face was. The other boy just snickered at Monty's obvious interest, winking as he set the board down and rode up the driveway. Monty turned around quickly, swallowing past the lump in his throat. He kissed me. He actually kissed me. 

The entire ride home, all he could think about was the feel of Winston's lips against his cheek. His heart felt like it was going to explode and his face had started to hurt from the constant smiling. He picked up the skateboard once he got in the driveway and jogged around to the side of the house. Setting the board against the side wall, he pushed the window up as quietly as he could. With any luck, his father would either be passed out or not home yet. Once he got the window open he tossed his backpack through and onto his bed. He did the same with his shoes and then grabbed the board, holding it as he climbed through. Monty laid on his bed, both exhausted and energized by the night's events. Did that count as a first kiss? 

Eventually, he heard the microwave beep out in the kitchen. Holding his breath, he got up and slowly unlocked and opened the door. He stuck his head out, scanning the hallway for any sign of his father before stepping out and soundlessly closing the door behind him. Monty crept down the hallway just far enough to be able to see into the kitchen. Much to his relief, it was only Estela. He sighed in relief, walking into the kitchen and hopping up onto the counter. 

"Where have you been?" she whispered.

"Out with a friend." he replied.

She nodded, pulling the bowl of noodles out from the microwave.

"I take it Mom didn't make dinner again?" he murmured.

"No, she got home from work and went straight to bed. She didn't even say hello." Estela answered in a somber tone.

Monty gave her a sad smile. He could protect her from their father and take the beating for her, but he couldn't give her a mom who cared. At least she doesn't hit us, he reminded himself. We should be grateful for that. 

Eventually, Monty had hopped down from the counter and made his own batch of ramen noodles. They sat on the floor behind the counter, eating together in silence. Once he finished, he put the bowl in the sink and returned to his room. It was early for him, only about ten, so he had plenty of enough time to finish the drawing. He sat on the floor beside his bed, coloring away and adding the final details when he heard a car door slam from outside. He jumped, almost dropping the pencil. A quick glance out the window confirmed his suspicions; his father had returned home from wherever he decided to spend his day. 

Following the sound of the front door being thrown open, he shoved the supplies into his backpack and jumped onto his bed. He pulled the blanket over him, trying to slow his breathing down to make it look like he was asleep. Monty closed his eyes, hoping for the best when he heard the doorknob jiggle. The door was soon opened, slamming against the door stop as his father stumbled in.

"Where the hell have you been all day?" he slurred.

Monty's nostrils flared at the sickening smell of heavy booze. 

"At school." he grumbled, sitting up.

He needed to be ready if tonight was going to end up like a few days ago. 

"No shit. Where the hell were you after school? You think you can just do whatever you please?" the man demanded.

"I was out with a friend. We had to finish a project-" he explained before he was cut off.

"What friend? Who would want to be around some bitch like you?" his father sneered, laughing drunkenly. 

Monty felt his jaw clench, hands bawling up beside him.

"You little shit, you think you can just run all over, do whatever you want. I bust my ass for this family, I work hard to take care of your scrawny ass and you pull this shit in return. Ungrateful little shit." the man seethed, kicking the backpack and sending it across the small room.

It hit the wall, contents spilling out onto the floor. Monty quickly got out of the bed, breathing heavily as he tired to move towards the door without turning his back to the man. He watched as his dad leaned down, almost losing his balance as he did so and snatched the photograph from the floor. Monty cursed under his breath, regretting not hiding it as soon as he got home.

"And who the hell is this? Is this your little friend, huh?" he taunted, stalking towards the boy.

Monty stepped backwards, feeling his back hit the door. 

"None of your fucking buisness." he spat, feeling blunt nails dig into the soft skin of his palms.

The man's hand shot out, seizing him by the collar and dragging him forward. Monty stumbled, shoving at the man's chest. 

"You listen to me, bitch. I see you around him again, I'll bash your head in, understand me?" he threatened.

"Fuck you." Monty snarled, kneeing his father in the stomach then shoving him backwards. 

The man staggered, releasing his hold on Monty's shirt.

"I mean it. I brought you into this world, and I'll take you out." he snarled, shuffling out into the hallway and almost tripping.

Monty felt warm tears sting his eyes, hands shaking and grinding his teeth as he slammed the door in a burst of rage. He heard a thunk outside, no doubt the old bastard finally passing out. 

"Shit!" he swore quietly, tears blurring his vision.

He let his head tap against the door, sliding down until he was sitting against it. He sat there numbly, unsure of what to do. Moments later, he spotted a familiar object under his bed. Monty reached underneath it, pulling the stuffed bunny out. He held it in his hands, shaking it off to get rid of the dust. He sniffled, remembering when his mom had let him buy it at the thrift store. He was only around five at the time, but it was one of the very few toys he had growing up. Thus, it held a special place in his heart. He'd hid it under his bed in hopes to prevent his father from finding it. He'd probably get his ass beat if his father knew about it. 

Monty hugged it to his chest, closing his eyes and willing himself not to cry. That's when he got an idea. Still holding the bunny, he got back in bed and pulled out his phone. He swiped open his messages, hesitating only for a second before typing on the message.

To Winston: Thank you for tonight. Sent, 12:18 AM


End file.
